on a mission
by NickyFox13
Summary: Witch Baby and school mix in an unusual way.


**A/N: I was curious as to what Witch Baby was like in school, so I felt compelled to write this. I might write more about this idea, so keep your eyes peeled for a potential sequel. Feedback is greatly appreciated! **

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Witch Baby was on a fresh and endlessly important mission: make school feel less horrible. She didn't mind the learning aspect of it all, though. Filling her brain with facts and figures made Witch Baby feel alive and energized. She felt powerful and useful, as if the knowledge she gained briefly transformed her into some kind of confident, extraverted young women worth. Her ultimate goal in life was to use her positive energy for good, and not for evil. Thinking in such black-and-white terms regarding how she could deal with school was the only way Witch Baby could properly process information.

Most of her peers found facts and figures as bland as plain vanilla yogurt, with as much use as a broken ruler. On some days, Witch Baby agreed. There were some subjects that were impossible to apply to daily life. Who needed algebra when you were going to become something that strayed far from the path of algebra? She wanted with all of her heart and desired with the intensity of a hot summer sun to apply these facts and figures to the real world so she could feel as if she was a wheel helping the universe move forward. She was a girl of action and application, and her teachers noticed that.

"Witch Baby, you should start an activism club," they would tell her, trying their best to make sure she exerted her energy in an acceptable way. She, like a robot ready to do its job, nodded with a blank but toothy smile. Witch Baby wanted to lead people that mattered and agreed with her, not these students who seemed dead behind the eyes and more willing to party until the morning sun burns their skin and only move forward with their own lives when they found the path that benefits them.

The downfall of school were numerous, and growing by the day. The plain beige walls staring at her with the intention to close her in, as if she remained trapped in a box with twenty-six other people who didn't seem to care about the impending doom incited by such a cramped, claustrophobic classroom. She never imagined dying in a room full of near strangers who probably only remembered her name because it was so odd.

To keep her mind off of the terror of the prison that was the classroom, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths. When she opened her eyes, it seemed like she finally remembered that students sat around her. There were students who took care of their mops of colorfully dyed hair as if the hair was a vulnerable child, and there were some students who had no hair at all, as if having a shiny baldhead said something about their character. The students who ones with clothing that covered every inch of skin, possibly because of insecurity, who seemed opposite of the students who revealed as much skin as possible.

Witch Baby wished she could connect with them on a more emotional level. Socializing made her inadequate, as if the words she'd say weren't worth the chewed gum left underneath the desks. She did make some friends, which took as much effort as she could muster. Those people made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside, reminding her that she mattered and she was important.

The worst kinds of students were those apathetic or ignorant to her cause. Students who couldn't give a damn about Witch Baby's causes close to her heart and ideas made her blood boil and her heart race. Who did they think they were, snubbing her in the only way they knew best: aloof passive-aggression. She couldn't keep calm when she thought about the students who couldn't stand to listen to her raspy voice or care about the causes she did with the same intensity. Whenever those unhappy thoughts appeared, Witch Baby made a note to try and make them positive. Usually, she'd talk to Weetzie, who was a ball of endless happy energy. She never said it often to Weetzie's face, but Witch Baby appreciated Weetzie's eternally smiling face.

"Not everyone's going to like you," Weetzie would coo reassuringly as she held Witch Baby close in a protective yet loving hug, "and that's okay, because the people who matter will make themselves known." That eased Witch Baby's ailing nerves, and she'd hug Weetzie back just as tight. It was hard to show affection, but this time, she meant the hug. Weetzie kissed the top of Witch Baby's head and proceeded to make Witch Baby her favorite food: nachos smothered with melted Swiss cheese, creamy, over-ripe avocado, salty-sweet olives, eggs and lots of tomatoes.

With her belly full of delicious food, Witch Baby was ready to clear her mind all by herself. She put on her skates and went to the cemetery. Most called her morbid, for it was out-of-the-ordinary to build up a fascination with the dead when there's so much in life to explore. She walked inside the cemetery, she couldn't help but feel serene because she was alive surrounded. The calm, inhuman silence that washed over her forced Witch Baby to think in a different way. An eternal question popped in her mind: how would she accomplish her goal to make school more bearable when she was surrounded by apathy and claustrophobia?

She could do as her teachers asked of her, and start an activism club. It would weed out the apathetic, selfish students who lacked the desire to keep up. She could also hold meetings outside on the quad, which would solve feeling so claustrophobic.

This was clearly an epiphany worth noting. She rushed home to write up her club proposal. Things were finally looking up.


End file.
